


More Than Enough

by theLilyBird



Series: The Loved, The Lost, and The Fallen [1]
Category: Borderlands
Genre: AU - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 14:10:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6473239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLilyBird/pseuds/theLilyBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the day after the third quarter party and Rhys has regrets. He spent the better part of the evening making out with a complete stranger. Now Handsome Jack has called him to his office and Rhys has no idea why.</p><p>(I can't properly write descriptions, but it's better than it sounds.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Third Quarter Party

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to just be smut, but somehow it turned into me writing a serious fic with three parts. I don't know how I got here.

Handsome Jack liked to throw parties for any reason he could find. So every quarter--regardless of how well it went--there was a party.

 

It’s the third quarter party. Vaughn and Yvette had disappeared in search of more alcohol. Rhys on the other hand had more than enough.

 

He wasn't yet feeling sick, but his judgement was definitely impaired. The fact he was making out with a total stranger was a testament to it.

 

The stranger had their tongue down Rhys’ throat as they palmed his growing erection. He moaned into the other person's mouth, rolling his hips. The other person chuckled darkly and pulled back.

 

They were about to say something when Rhys spied Vaughn waving to him over the shoulder of the stranger. Yvette did the same and Rhys apologized before making his way through the crowd toward them. The stranger might've said something, but it was too loud to be sure.

 

The next morning Rhys woke with his head in Yvette’s lap on his couch with Vaughn dozing on the floor. The smaller man’s mouth hung open as he leaned back against the couch.

 

Rhys groans, his head hurts and he can’t remember most of last night. He sits up, careful not to disturb either of his friends. They’d somehow found their way back to his apartment. Rhys couldn’t remember how.

 

He gets up and makes his way to the bathroom in search of aspirin. He’s suddenly very grateful work starts late because of Jack’s forward thinking. Some part of him knows it was mostly a selfish thing that happened to benefit others, but he’s grateful all the same.

 

When he returns to the living room with the bottle of aspirin both Vaughn and Yvette have started shuffling around his apartment. 

 

“My hero,” Yvette says, snatching the bottle from him. She'd already found herself some water and downs the pills quickly. 

 

They go their separate ways to get ready for work.

 

When Vaughn comes to Rhys’ cubicle, he seems in better shape than he had back in his apartment. 

 

“Tell me I didn't do anything stupid last night,” Rhys begs, knowing better.

 

“Define stupid,” Vaughn says, smiling just a little too wide to be friendly.

 

Rhys rolls his eyes and groans.

 

“You had some stranger’s tongue down your throat at one point, got pretty hot ‘n’ heavy,” Yvette says, coming from seemingly nowhere. “We rescued you, though. You're welcome.”

 

Rhys groans again, “Who was it?” Who was he going to have to avoid like the plague for the next week?

 

Both of his friends shrug.

 

“Only saw the back of his head,” Vaughn replies with another shrug.

 

Rhys puts his face in his hands and groans louder this time.

 

“Don't be so dramatic, Rhys. It could've been worse. It  _ has  _ been worse,” Yvette adds, placing a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to be comforting.

 

“Which one of you is Rhys?” a woman questions as she approaches.

 

Rhys looks up to find a small and somewhat attractive woman accompanied by a burly and far less attractive man in full security garb. Hesitantly he raises his hand, “That'd be me.”

 

Her attention turns to Rhys, “Handsome Jack would like to see you.  _ Now. _ ”

 

Rhys only hesitates for a moment before following the woman. He’s always wanted to meet his hero, but this feels too much like a death sentence for him to be excited. 

 

The security guard follows close behind and Rhys  _ knows _ he’s a dead man walking.

 

On the elevator ride up to Jack’s office he tries to think of what he could've done wrong, but nothing comes to mind. Then again Handsome Jack rarely needed a reason to kill someone. 

 

The security guard shoves him into Handsome Jack’s office before returning to his post.

 

“Don’t piss him off. I don’t want to be the one cleaning your blood off the floor,” the woman whispers before looking up toward the desk. “Jack, he’s here.” Then she scurries away.

 

Jack sits at his desk in the center of the room with the back of his chair facing Rhys. Dramatically--Rhys wouldn’t have expected any less--Jack spins the chair around to face him. “Rhysie!” the man shouts a little too happily for Rhys’ liking. He rises from his chair and gestures Rhys closer.

 

Against his better judgement he complies, mounting the stairs until he finds himself only a few feet away from his hero. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears and he’s unsure if it’s out of fear or excitement. “Did you need something, sir?” he asks, voice softer than usual.

 

The older man ignores him as he moves around the desk, approaching Rhys in an almost predatory manner. He stumbles backward, but Jack reaches out and grabs him by his flesh arm, pulling the younger man into himself. They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, Rhys’ fear reflected back at him in heterochromatic eyes.

 

Then they’re kissing, savage and unforgiving, Jack driving Rhys toward the desk. The older man keeps a hand at the back of his neck, successfully keeping the younger man trapped as he uses the other to pull at his belt.

 

Something snaps in Rhys and he manages to pull away, sliding around his boss so he’s back where he started. “No,” he manages weakly, staring at the floor. If he wasn’t dead before he was definitely dead now.

 

Handsome Jack doesn’t turn at first, just stands still, rubbing at his mouth with his other hand on his hip. When he turns to face Rhys his expression shifts from something unreadable to that of amusement. He laughs and the sound is sharp, making Rhys back up again, stumbling a little in the process.

 

The older man reaches out to steady him, but doesn’t do any more. “No what, cupcake?” he questions with a raised brow.

 

Rhys fumbles for words, incoherent noises escaping him as he tries to explain himself. “No, I won’t be a one night stand,” he manages, feeling proud of himself and yet foolish.

 

“It’s not night,” is all he says back.

 

Gaining confidence that Jack isn't interested in killing him, Rhys tries again. “I'm not asking for anything serious, I just don't want this to be a one time thing. I'm not a toy,” he says, some of his fear is gone and it's apparent in his voice.

 

“No,” Jack says before his lips crash with the younger man's for the second time. 

 

This time it's a fight for dominance and they both know it. Rhys drives him back against the desk, grinding against the man below him. He  _ wants  _ this.

 

Not one to be dominated, Jack bites Rhys’ lower lip, pulling him closer as he rolls his hips against him.

 

Rhys moans into the older man's mouth, reaching up to tangle his hand in the other's hair. Then stupidity overtakes him and he pulls away.

 

“Why am I here?” he asks, reaching up to touch his bottom lip. His fingertips come away dotted in blood.

 

Jack leans back on his forearms, “Don't remember, do you cupcake?”

 

Rhys scratches his neck awkwardly before shaking his head.

 

The older man laughs and claps his hands together. “This is great,” he says, grinning. “Look, kiddo, you were all over me last night and then you blew me off. Now I'm in a forgiving mood, so I'm willing to leave the past in the past and look to the future. I'm nice like that. So you can either come here and ride this dick for all you're worth or…” he trails off.

 

“Or what? You'll make me?” Rhys questions. 

 

Suddenly Jack stands straight and his face contorts in disgust. “I'm not a rapist,” he says firmly.

 

“I didn't--”

 

“It was implied.” Jack sighs and waves him off, walking back around to sit in his chair. “You've ruined the moment. Go before I decide to shoot you in your pretty little face.”

 

Rhys doesn't need to be told twice.

 

Back in his apartment, Rhys tries to make sense of the day. He makes dinner and sits on his couch to eat. He's never had reason to use his dining room table.

  
Rhys doesn't tell anyone about what happened in Jack’s office. When questioned he gives vague, incoherent answers. After a week no one bothers asking him again.


	2. At the Bar

It's been two weeks since his  _ incident  _ in Jack’s office and Rhys has almost forgotten about it.  _ Almost. _

 

Rhys sits at the bar with Vaughn, Yvette trying to work drinks out of some poor sap at the other end of the bar.

 

“She's getting good at that,” Vaughn comments, looking over at Yvette briefly before turning his attention back to Rhys.

 

“She is,” Rhys agrees.

 

Vaughn drums his hands on the bar. “So you ready to tell me what happened in Handsome Jack’s office?”

 

Rhys sighs, “I thought we were past that.”

 

“Nope.”

 

Rhys sighs again, preparing to pour out every detail to his best friend. It's been nagging at him more and more lately and it couldn't hurt to get it off his chest.

 

“Rhysie!” someone calls from the other end of the bar.

 

Against his better judgement Rhys looks up.

 

_ Jack. _

 

“Fancy seeing you here, cupcake,” the older man says. His gaze is predatory and his grin is just as bad. 

 

Vaughn nearly falls off his barstool in surprise, death gripping the bar to keep him steady. “H--Handsome Jack,” he sputters. 

 

Jack doesn't look at him, instead he rests his hand on Rhys’ shoulder.

 

The younger man pulls away as politely as he can manage. “This is the only bar close to where I work, Jack. Where else would I be?” he says, ignoring the shocked look on Vaughn’s face. “I need to use the restroom.”

 

Without another word Rhys is walking toward the bathroom, feeling a bit sick. Jack was really going to kill him this time.

 

Before he can get to the bathroom, someone grabs him by the waist and pulls him into a dark corner. It's not until he's caged by Handsome Jack’s arms that he realizes what's going on.

 

“If you're trying to tease me, consider your efforts a success,” the older man says into his ear. “Never had someone try to play hard to get before, Rhysie.” 

 

“I'm not--” he tries but his words are caught by Jack’s mouth. It's another fight, but this time Rhys is losing. Jack starts to trail his mouth down his neck, placing violent kisses on soft flesh.

 

Rhys snakes his hand in the other's hair, holding him against his neck. A moan escapes him. “Jack,” he whines. He can feel him smiling against his throat.

 

Something draws the younger man from the moment and he pushes the older one off him.

 

Jack groans, “Not this crap again.”

 

“I'm not--”

 

“Not a one night stand. Yeah you mentioned that, cupcake,” Jack snaps, head in his hand. “If you weren't so pretty you'd be out the airlock by now.”

 

Fear chills him to the bone, but Rhys pushes past it as he pushes past Jack. “You can think about it,” he says, heading back to Vaughn.

 

“What was that about?” his friend questions, looking back in the general direction of Jack.

 

Rhys pats him on the back. “I'm going home. I'll tell you about it some other time.”

 

And he does. He tells Vaughn the whole story. 

 

“So what you're saying is you told our boss--Handsome Jack, who's crazy by the way--that you don't want to sleep with him if it's just going to be a one time deal? How are you not dead?” Vaughn asks, shock coating his awkward features.

 

He shrugs, “I think he's not used to people telling him no, probably gets him off knowing there's something he can't have.” 

 

“ _ Someone, _ ” Vaughn corrects and Rhys remembers why they're best friends.

 

“ _ Someone  _ he can't have,” Rhys echoes back.

 

Vaughn leans further back in the armchair, carding his fingers through his hair. He doesn't seem to have fully wrapped himself around the situation. “So what if Jack says yes?”

 

The question hits Rhys and he realizes he hadn't exactly thought about it. Well, he'd thought about it  _ before _ he met Jack. He'd imagined hundreds of different scenarios between him and Jack, but this was different. This was real.

 

“We'll have sex, I guess,” he answers.

 

This only seems to shock Vaughn further. The smaller man gestures around the living room wildly. “You’re surrounded by Handsome Jack merchandise, he's been your hero for years and you just  _ guess?  _ You  _ guess  _ you'll--seriously man? You're a total fan boy, Jack’s ready to jump your bones, and you're  _ guessing _ ?” Vaughn stands, eyes wide. 

 

“Vaughn, bro. It's not that big of a--”

 

“Liar,” Vaughn interrupts, crossing his arms like an indignant child. 

 

Rhys sighs and relaxes into the sofa. “Okay, it kind of is a big deal, but I'm not going to go getting all excited about it. Far as I'm concerned Jack can do what he wants,” he says and only sort of means it.


	3. Greg or Craig

Handsome Jack hated being denied, he'd so rarely experienced it in the first place and he'd almost never been denied sex. In fact he couldn't recall a single instance. 

Until Rhys.

 

He growls to himself at the thought. They'd encountered each other three times now, each time Jack was left wanting  _ more.  _ But that was the trouble.

 

Rhys wanted a different kind of more, a more permanent  _ more.  _ Jack just wanted to get off. 

 

It'd been a week since their last encounter and Jack was starting to lose his mind--more than usual. He was starting to  _ daydream _ about the younger man.

 

He'd be in the middle of a  _ very  _ boring meeting and he'd imagine what it was like to hold Rhys close against his chest as they drifted into sleep after a long night of hard fucking. At one point he was just at his desk, doing nothing in particular when he imagined Rhys coming to visit him, bringing lunch and kisses.

 

Handsome Jack was not a romantic and he was certainly incapable of being domestic. And yet here he was, imagining different implications to Rhys’ request for  _ more. _ He was definitely losing his mind.

 

***

 

Rhys’ date isn't going well. There's no chemistry between him and--was his name Greg or Craig? Rhys couldn't remember.

 

Greg or Craig has brought him to a fairly nice restaurant on Helios. They'd indulged in some relatively expensive wine and were now eating dinner. They used the food as an excuse not to speak. 

 

Well, Rhys did at least. He isn't sure how he’s going to break it to the poor guy that this just isn't working out.

 

He's just about mustered the courage to call the night quits when he hears the almost familiar nickname--

 

“Rhysie!” Jack calls, coming around the table. He's got some woman on his arm. She's tall and beautiful, smiling brightly at him. “Jules this is Rhysie,” Jack says, gesturing at the younger man.

 

Jules nods. “Nice to...meet you,” she says, her words heavily accented.

 

Rhys shakes her hand. “This is…” Rhys stops, wishing he had paid more attention to the person he's on a date with.

 

“Craig, from accounting,” Craig says, holding his hand out. 

 

Jack ignores him, attention on Rhys. “It was nice seeing you, cupcake,” he says, eyes lingering on him just a moment too long to be friendly before ushering Jules off to their table.

 

Craig leans in across the table. “That was Handsome Jack,” he practically squeals.

 

Rhys nods, “Yep.” He pauses, trying to keep his attention on Craig and failing. “I need to hit the restroom. I'll be back,” he says quickly before rising from his seat and heading toward the bathrooms.

 

He's just finished washing his hands when he notices the older man watching him. “Can I help you, Jack?”

 

The older man ignores him in favor of grasping his face and pulling him in for a kiss.

 

After a split second of confusion, Rhys drives them back into a stall, closing the door with his hip. They slam backward against the opposite wall, Jack pinned beneath Rhys this time. 

 

“Miss me, cupcake?” Jack asks, a little breathless.

 

“Who's Jules?” Rhys questions, feeling an unwarranted surge of jealousy.

 

Jack chuckles against the other's throat. “Just a pretty girl,” he breathes. “Who's Craig?”

 

“Don't know,” Rhys says honestly, moaning when Jack nips at the soft flesh.

 

Jack chuckles darkly, tugging at Rhys’ belt.

 

It's unsurprising when Rhys pulls away, panting and flushed, but determined. 

 

The older man sighs, “ _ I know. _ ”

 

“I've gotta get back to--”

 

Jack kisses him more forcefully this time, holding him still with a hand at the back of his neck. “I  _ want  _ you,” he growls, not releasing him yet.

 

This makes Rhys smirk. “You know how to get me,” he says before pulling Jack’s hand away and pushing past him, leaving the stall.

 

Craig is thankfully the one to call the date off early.  _ We're clearly not a good match. _

 

***

 

Jack had every intention of taking Jules back to his penthouse and fucking her through the mattress, but it's all gone sour when he sees Rhys kiss Craig goodbye at the door.

 

He excuses himself.  _ Sorry, I have to go, something came up. _ Then he follows Craig home.

 

Unsurprisingly Craig lives in one of apartments crowded together in the less wealthy part of Helios. Briefly Jack wonders if Rhys lives in a similar apartment. 

 

Craig is right to be afraid of him, cowering on his kitchen floor in a puddle of his own urine as he begs for his life.

 

Jack crouches in front of him, careful not to kneel in the liquid. “Where did you meet Rhysie?” he asks, pressing his gun up under the other man's chin.

 

Craig is confused for only a moment before he catches on. “R--Rhys? I met him through Vaugh--Vaughn. He set us up--please don't kill me,” he begs, trying not to look Jack in the eye.

 

“Vaughn?” Jack questions with a cocked brow. 

 

He's crying now, his answer coming out between broken sobs. “Rh--Rhys’ b--best friend,” he says, eyes squeezed shut.

 

Jack moves the gun up to his temple, “Ya know what, Greg? I'm feeling--”

 

“It's Craig,” the crying man has the nerve to correct.

 

“I  _ was  _ feeling forgiving, but you've gone and ruined my good mood. Now you're going to die,” Jack says, standing. The poor fucker sobs harder, begging for his life. He shoots him anyway.

 

“Damn that felt friggin’ good,” he says, rolling his shoulders and bouncing on the balls of his feet before leaving.

 

The next day Jack finds his way to accounting, finds Vaughn. Jack doesn't recognize him until he does.

 

“Uh Mr. Handsome Jack, sir, can I help you with something, sir?” the small man questions awkwardly.

 

“How would you like to go to lunch?” 

 

Over a very expensive meal, Jack manages to get Vaughn to tell him all sorts of useless details about Rhys. Stupid shit like his favorite color--Hyperion Yellow,  _ shocker _ . Even more personal shit like who he dated in college, who broke his heart and who he blew off.

 

“You're not all that scary, Mr. Handsome Jack. Dunno why everyone thinks you are,” Vaughn says idly, sipping at some expensive wine.

 

“Does Rhys think so?” he can't help but ask.

 

Vaughn shrugs. “He's kind of a huge fan boy, but that doesn't mean he can't be afraid,” he answers, more than a little drunk.

 

“Fan boy?”

 

“Yeah, you should see some of the crazy shit he has your face on. Coasters, shower curtain, posters all over.”--he leans close like the next part is a secret--“It's sort of creepy if you ask me.”

 

“I didn't.”

 

Vaughn shrugs again and takes another sip of wine.

 

“Alright, as nice as this wasn't--goodbye Vaughn,” he says, standing and making move to leave before stopping. “Don't tell Rhysie this happened. Or your ass is going out the airlock.”

 

Vaughn raises his hands in surrender, “‘Course Mr. Handsome Jack, sir.”

 

Jack thinks he could maybe get used to the little guy, but just maybe.


	4. Unusual

“You two should really just go at it already,” Vaughn tells Rhys at lunch the next day.

 

“Who should go at what?” Yvette questions, appearing behind Rhys.

 

Vaughn struggles for a moment before finding a sufficient excuse. “Rhys has a secret admirer,” he lies, sort of.

 

“Ooh who?” Yvette asks, sliding into the seat between the two males.

 

“Wouldn't be a secret admirer if I knew that,” Rhys adds, grateful Vaughn hadn't yet sold him out.

 

Yvette rolls her eyes.

 

“Rhys, Handsome Jack has requested your presence in his office,” that same somewhat attractive woman says. This time she's alone.

 

Rhys sighs and sets his sandwich down. “Tell him no,” he says, attention returning to his food as he ignores the three gaping expressions trained on him.

 

“N--no? You can't tell Jack no,” the woman stutters obviously as unused to Jack being told no as Jack himself.

 

“Just did.”

 

Yvette leans closer to him, “Rhys maybe you should--” 

 

“It's fine, Yvette,” he interrupts, turning his attention back to the other woman. “Tell Jack I'm not a dog. If he has something to say he can say it  _ without  _ having his secretary try to come fetch me.”

 

When the woman tries to speak again, Rhys ignores her, ignores Yvette, and even Vaughn as he focuses on lunch.

 

“You sure that was smart?” Yvette asks when the other woman has given up and left.

 

Rhys shrugs.

 

“Rhys knows what he's doing,” Vaughn adds, not sounding confident in the slightest. 

 

Three days pass without incident and Rhys starts to think maybe Jack has given up on him. Part of him feels a little disappointed and the other only feels relief.

 

Jack is still his hero, that much hasn't changed. What's different is now his fantasies are more frequent and diverse.

 

Rhys can't stop himself from daydreaming about the other man during work. He's even forcing himself to work harder because he wants to make Jack proud.

 

After an extremely long work day, Rhys tries to relax in his apartment, watching documentaries on Handsome Jack. He'd always found informational TV to be relaxing, documentaries on his hero more so.

 

Just as he's about to doze off there's a knock at his door followed by non-stop ringing of his doorbell.

 

Groggily, he rubs at his eyes with the heel of this hand before rising and padding toward the door. “I'm coming, I'm coming!” he calls as he reaches the door.

 

When it opens Rhys barely has time to recognize it's Jack before he's being driven against the hallway wall, Jack kissing him in earnest.

 

The younger man lets out a surprised squeak and Jack takes the opportunity to shove his tongue in his mouth. 

 

Rhys remains in shock for only a moment longer before driving the older man back against the opposite wall, breaking away to stare him down. 

 

“What? I did what you wanted--which I don't ever do--and you're  _ glaring  _ at me,” Jack says, crossing his arms and relaxing into the wall. “If you ask me, you're being ungrateful, cupcake.”

 

“I didn't ask,” Rhys says calmly.

 

Jack shakes his head, “You know, I don't let people back talk me very often, Rhysie. Last person to try got a bullet to the brain.” He makes a finger gun, points it at Rhys and pretends to fire--noises included.

 

Rhys rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and looking away. “Did you need something Jack?” he asks.

 

Jack seems to struggle for a minute, opening his mouth twice and closing it immediately after. He growls to himself, startling Rhys into looking at him. “Look, kid, I don't usually do this wining and dining thing. I don't  _ have  _ to. Usually. But you're a bit of a special case, so I'm going to take you out,” he declares.

 

“You are?” Rhys questions, eyebrow raised.

 

“I am. Tomorrow night,” he says, slowly driving Rhys backward until he has him pinned. The older man catches the younger’s chin between his thumb and index finger, pulling his face up so their gazes meet. “If that's alright with you,” he adds roughly.

 

Something about Jack’s voice makes Rhys shiver. He nods in response, unsure about the steadiness of his own voice.

 

Jack pulls away. “Great. I'll send someone to get you from work,” he says before heading out the still open door.

  
Rhys thinks to protest, unsure if people seeing him getting picked up by one of Jack’s lackeys is the best idea, but he decides it'll be fine. As long as it's not Jack himself.


	5. Fight for Your Life

But it  _ is  _ Jack himself who comes to get him as six sharp, wearing a three piece suit in dark red. It reminds Rhys of blood.

 

Rhys nearly falls out of his chair as Jack leans against the wall of his cubicle. “Hey, pumpkin,” he says in greeting.

 

“Careful there,” he adds, reaching out to touch Rhys’ robotic arm, steadying the younger man. His tone is sultry and every move he makes seems measured. 

 

“I thought you said you'd send someone,” Rhys hisses at the older man, checking to see if anyone has noticed him yet.

 

Jack shrugs. “I thought I'd take you to get something nice to wear tonight. Didn't seem like you had anything on hand,” he says, lazily scanning the room as Rhys does. “You looking for something, pumpkin?”

 

Rhys sighs and shakes his head, standing and grabbing his coat as he shuts off the computer. “Nothing, let's go,” he says, turning to leave.

 

Jack makes him wear a suit similar to his own, though his is deep blue and lacks the vest. The restaurant Jack picks is extravagant and they sit in a booth in the back.

 

They linger perhaps too long after indulging in too much wine and expensive food. Jack takes them back to his place and Rhys takes a moment to admire the view of Pandora through floor to ceiling windows.

 

Jack comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close. “How do you like it?” he asks, dipping into Rhys’ throat with kisses.

 

Rhys reaches behind him to rest his hand on the back of the older man's head, pulling him closer. “It's beautiful,” he says, awestruck.

 

The older man chuckles against his neck. “Thought you'd like it,” he says, pulling Rhys closer so he can feel Jack’s erection against his ass.

 

It's fire from there, pulling at clothes until they give and are tossed aside. Both shirtless men find their way to Jack’s bedroom. It's all dark colors and lavish decor, the bed dominating the room.

 

“Jack,” Rhys gasps, the man in question is trailing kisses and bites down his jaw, neck, and collarbone. “Jack,  _ please.  _ I want you.” Jack pushes Rhys backward onto the bed, separating them.

 

The older man is about to speak, he opens his mouth and the phone rings.

 

“Don't answer it,” Rhys whines, reaching out to pull the other man down to him.

 

Jack ignores him and answers the phone. His expression is soft at first and then it hardens into something unreadable before he slams the phone against the nightstand, effectively breaking it.

 

“Jack?” Rhys questions as the man curls in on himself. He reaches out in an attempt at comfort but Jack pulls away.

 

The older man straightens and disappears into the closet. “I have to go,” he says from the closet, tone harsh. 

 

“I trust you can let yourself out, Rhys,” he says when he emerges, in his usual garb and armed to the teeth.

 

Rhys just nods and watches him leave. He's torn between anger and worry. He settles on the former.

 

He doesn't see Jack for two weeks. In fact no one seems to have seen him. Rhys is too enveloped in anger to care.

 

He had been ready to give himself to Jack, ready to surrender his power and put himself in the hands of a raging psychopath. They hadn't even agreed that it was going to be a repeated affair, but Rhys was  _ still  _ willing.

 

Then Jack had told him to let himself out, foregoing the pet names and calling him  _ Rhys  _ as he never had. It was formal and cold and Rhys wouldn't forgive him for it.

 

On week three Rhys thinks he'll just rebound with Greg--or Craig, he couldn't really remember, but he doesn't return his calls. He spends the weekend sulking with Vaughn instead.

 

It's week four and Rhys is raging drunk, shouting obscenities at the posters of his idol plastered all over his apartment. He's angry and he doesn't know why Jack has this effect on him, which only makes him angrier.

 

When he's done with his tirade his apartment is in ruins: his posters are in shreds, glass from several different bottles of wine, and memorabilia are mixed in a mess on his floor. He collapses into his couch, wine bottle in one hand and remote in the other. He doesn't finish the bottle or the TV show before he passes out from exhaustion. 

 

Incessant ringing of his doorbell rouses him, but his head is throbbing and it takes him a while to get to the door.

 

“Shut the fuck up already, I'm coming!” he shouts, careful to avoid the shattered glass on the floor.

 

The door opens and Jack pulls Rhys into him for a kiss, but Rhys is having none of it and shoves the older man away with the force of his robotic arm. “You've been gone a month!” the younger man hollers. “And you expect me to just--just what? Pretend you didn't leave me alone in your bed with no explanation and not so much as a goodbye before flying off to God knows where so you could do fuck only knows what--or who!”

 

Jack’s face goes through several expressions in quick succession: beginning with guilt, melding into sorrow before finishing as fury. He shoves Rhys backward into his apartment before kicking the door closed. “Watch your tongue, kiddo,” he snarls at the younger man.

 

“Or what?” Rhys spits, returning to his spot on the couch and picking the now warm bottle of wine up off the floor before taking a drink.

 

Jack follows him deeper into his apartment, his expression changes again--briefly--to that of shock before settling back into fury. “Or I'll shoot you right between your pretty little eyes,” he snaps, gaze settling onto the younger man. 

 

Rhys laughs bitterly, taking another swig. “Yeah right.”

 

Suddenly Jack seems to snap, pulling his pistol out and leveling it at Rhys. “Say something stupid again, kid. Do it. I  _ want  _ to shoot you,” he warns.

 

“Shoot me, Jack. I  _ dare  _ you. Shoot me, see if it helps your case any,” the younger man taunts.

 

Jack fires into the cushion right beside Rhys’ thigh.

 

After the initial shock passes, Rhys bursts into laughter, unable to calm himself for several minutes before he turns his attention back to Jack. “You  _ care _ ,” he accuses, smirking wickedly.

 

Another shot on the opposite side.

 

“You care! Admit it Jack! Admit you care about me and maybe I'll let you fuck me before I kick your crazy ass out!” he screams before taking a long sip from the wine bottle.

 

“You're the crazy one here, kiddo. Do you hear yourself? You're  _ begging  _ me to shoot you.  _ Begging, _ ” Jack says, waving his pistol at the younger man. “You're getting off on this, aren't you, Rhysie? The danger of it is making you hard, isn't it? You  _ like  _ this.”

 

Rhys tries to burn holes in the older man with his eyes alone.

 

It's Jack’s turn to laugh, “Oh that's priceless, cupcake.  _ Priceless. _ ”

 

It happens so fast Rhys isn't sure what he's doing until it's done, until he has Jack pinned against the wall with the man's own knife at his throat, pistol long gone.

 

This close Rhys can tell Jack’s getting off on it, too. With his free hand--the robotic one--he palms Jack through his jeans and the older man bites back a groan.

 

“ _ Priceless, _ ” the younger man snarls in the other's ear.

 

“If you're going to kill me, get it over with, cupcake,” Jack taunts, pressing slightly into the knife.

 

When Rhys doesn't so much as move, Jack laughs mockingly. “You can't do it, either, kiddo. You  _ care _ .”--Rhys growls at him--“Why else does this shit hole look like a shit hole twice over? Hmm? Care to explain, pumpkin?” Jack is grinning in a way that's shit eating.

 

Rhys throws the knife in the direction of the kitchen and replaces it with his robotic hand at Jack’s throat. “You  _ left _ . You  _ left _ \--”  _ Left me alone? Left without saying goodbye?  _ None of his options sound even remotely reasonable.

 

“It was important!” Jack protests, lack of proper oxygen flow to his lungs making his voice hoarse.

 

Rhys tightens his hold and narrows his eyes, causing Jack’s survival instincts to kick in as he claws at the metal of his arm. 

 

The older man seems to gather himself and his voice, but his words come out as breathy gasps.

 

Rhys lets go and Jack falls to his knees, gasping for air.

 

A slight wave of panic hits him, but it doesn't come close to getting him off his power trip. 

 

Just when Rhys thinks everything has calmed down, Jack grabs his ankle and pulls, knocking him to the ground. He doesn't remember anything afterward.


	6. Care

Rhys comes to slowly. It doesn't take him long to realize his head is resting on something soft but lumpy. Hesitantly he opens his eyes.

 

Handsome Jack stares down at him. “There you are,” he says, sounding somewhat relieved as he strokes the younger man's hair.

 

“What happened?”

 

“You hit your head. On the coffee table,” the older man says.

 

Rhys manages a laugh. “ _ You care _ ,” he says in sing-song.

 

Jack smiles, “I care.”

 

The younger man attempts to sit up, but Jack holds him down. “Just give it a minute, you hit your head pretty hard,” he tells him when Rhys eyes him curiously.

 

Rhys laughs again. “I'm kind of surprised you haven't shot me yet,” he confesses.

 

The older man frowns, “I wasn't going to shoot you, Rhys.”

 

Rhys groans and buries his face in Jack’s thigh. “Please don't make a habit of calling me that,” he says, voice slightly muffled.

 

“Of calling you by your name?”

 

The younger man nods, “It doesn't sound right coming out of your mouth. It sounds all serious and I don't like it.”

 

Jack strokes his hair, “Whatever you want, cupcake.”

 

“I want food. My last meal consisted of cheap wine,” Rhys complains.

 

“I see that,” Jack says. “I'll make you something, c’mere.” Jack scoops Rhys into his arms, cradling him against his chest as he carries him to the couch.

 

Rhys looks up at Jack dreamily before he disappears into the kitchen.

 

He hears the older man complain about a lack of proper ingredients, though several minutes later Rhys’ apartment smells  _ divine _ . His stomach aches in hunger and it almost overpowers the throbbing of his head. 

 

Jack comes around the couch and places two plates on the coffee table before disappearing around the couch again. When he returns it's with a glass of water and some aspirin which he hands to Rhys who takes both gratefully.

 

“What is it?” he questions as he sets the glass down and sits up more comfortably. 

 

“Stir fry, not the best I've ever made, but that's your fault for only having frozen vegetables,” Jack says, stabbing a fork into the dish and holding it out for Rhys.

 

He takes it hesitantly, which makes Jack laugh. “It's not poison,” he promises, making a crossing gesture over his heart.

 

It tastes as good as it smells and Rhys devours most of it before Jack’s even halfway through his.

 

Jack’s laughing at him again, but Rhys doesn't really care. He's in heaven and nothing can ruin his good mood. Jack had cooked him food and they hadn't even slept together yet.

 

“So, kiddo,” Jack begins, setting his plate of half finished food back onto the coffee table. He's relaxing against the arm of the couch. “I thought we could try again. I'll take you to dinner and we'll go from there.”

 

“I don't want dinner,” Rhys says and Jack’s expression shifts to something sad.

 

“Oh,” is all he says.

 

Rhys gets up on his knees and crawls over Jack so they're face to face. He settles into the older man's lap and rests his hands on his shoulders. He rolls his hips, hoping Jack gets the message without him having to say it.

 

From the look on his face he does, but when Rhys leans down for a kiss he stops him.

 

“You sure you wanna do this here, kid? We did just try to kill each other not even ten feet away,” he says, jabbing his thumb behind him.

 

“I'm sure,” Rhys promises, trying to kiss Jack again, but he dodges him.

 

“Yeah well I'm not,” he says, shifting into a sitting position, careful to take Rhys with him. “And no offense, Rhysie, but this place is a shit hole in more ways than one.”

 

Rhys rolls his eyes, “Fine. We can go back to your place.”

 

His words make Jack suddenly flustered and panicky, something so unlike him Rhys begins to worry. 

 

“N--no. We can't do that,” he says hastily. When Rhys just eyes him suspiciously he speaks again. “Look, kiddo, I want to take you out again. Let's just do that and go from there.”

 

Rhys thinks to press, but he doesn't like the panic he sees in Jack’s heterochromatic eyes and decides against it. “Sounds good to me,” he says.

 

Jack doesn't stay much longer after that. He makes some poor excuse, but Rhys doesn't press the matter.


	7. Angel

Around seven the next night Jack shows up in what was once a black three piece suit and is now a black three piece with a leather jacket.

 

Rhys wears the same deep blue suit Jack got him. He makes a joke about not wanting Jack’s money to go to waste, but really he just likes the suit.

 

The place they go to for dinner is somehow more decadent than the last place. Three out of the four walls are glass, giving them a beautiful view of Elpis. 

 

They're seated in a more secluded section of the restaurant that still gives them an amazing view.

 

Dinner is good, but part of Rhys knows he would've preferred something Jack had cooked. Then his mind wanders down a path paved with domestic thoughts.

 

Jack snaps his fingers in front of Rhys’ face. “You in there, kiddo?”

 

His attention falls back on Jack. “Doesn't that make you feel a little pedophilic?” he asks, trying to divert attention from him.

 

“You're making it weird, kid. It doesn't have to be weird unless you make it weird. And you're making it weird,” Jack says, staring at him.

 

Rhys laughs, “How much older are you than me anyway?” He knows it's upward of ten years, but he's not sure exactly how up. 

 

“Depends on how old you are,” Jack says, taking a sip of his wine.

 

“Twenty-two,” he answers. 

 

Jack chokes on his wine.

 

“What?” Rhys questions. 

 

“Nothing. Just thought you were older,” he says, clearly not all back together.

 

Rhys raises a brow, “How much older?”

 

Jack sighs, “I'm thirty-eight.”

 

It's Rhys’ turn to choke on his wine, which seems to help Jack gather himself.

 

“At least you're not old enough to be my father,” is all Rhys says, leaning back in his seat with his wine. “Though if I had a daddy kink, I might like that.”

 

Jack relaxes into his own chair, wine in hand. “Very comforting, cupcake. Very comforting.”

 

The rest of the night is spent with idle banter about various things of varying importance. Jack even lets him in on a secret business deal he's working on.

 

Then they're back where they were a month ago, Rhys shirtless in Jack’s bed with Jack hovering over him. Silently, Rhys prays no one calls again.

 

Jack trails hot kisses down Rhys’ throat, collarbone, and works his way down his chest. Rhys arches upward with pleas of  _ more. _

 

“Jack,” Rhys whines clawing at the older man’s shoulders as he presses a kiss against Rhys’ cock through the fabric of his dress pants.

 

“What?” Jack asks, feigning innocence.

 

The younger man raises his hips in askance. “Please, Jack,” he begs.

 

Jack chuckles against his thigh before reaching to undo Rhys’ belt. He's slow and teasing with the zipper, but pulls both his pants and his boxers off in the same motion, the younger man's cock coming to rest against his abdomen. 

 

Rhys watches as Jack licks his palm before taking him in hand. He groans, throwing his head back with a strained  _ yes. _

 

The younger man only catches a glimpse of Jack’s smirk before he sets his mouth on him, licking a slow line along his length before swallowing all of him down. Rhys whimpers and his hips thrust up of their own accord as he chants Jack’s name.

 

“Please,” he whines. Unable to keep himself up on his forearms any longer, Rhys throws himself back into the sheets. He writhes under Jack’s thorough ministrations. 

 

Jack takes his mouth off him briefly, “Please what, pumpkin?” 

 

“Please fuck me, Jack.  _ Please, _ ” he begs.

 

When Jack takes his mouth off him, he whimpers at the loss. His eyes follow Jack around the room as he makes his way to the nightstand. The older man pulls out a bottle of lube and as he walks back to Rhys he coats his fingers.

 

Rhys writhes in anticipation and keens when a slick digit presses into his ass. He whimpers Jack’s name when he wastes no time with a second finger. “Too fast,” he manages, squirming in the general direction of away.

 

Jack leans over to lick a stripe along his cock--base to tip. “Sorry, pumpkin,” he whispers and it seems more like he's talking to his cock than Rhys himself.

 

The older man tests him, sliding his fingers out and back in slowly. Rhys whimpers again, robotic hand death gripping the sheets as his flesh hand rakes through his own hair. “Too much?”

 

Rhys shakes his head, “ _ More. _ ”

 

Repeating the motion two more times, Jack starts to scissor him open, eliciting something between a squeak and a moan from the younger man. It makes Jack chuckle.

 

When Jack seems satisfied with his work he pulls his fingers out completely and slicks his own cock before pressing into Rhys as slowly as he can manage.

 

“I'm not that fragile, Jack,” Rhys says with a breathless laugh. He pushes back against Jack, who's having none of it and grips the younger man's hips tightly to keep him from moving.

 

Sheathing himself-- _ finally _ \--in Rhys, Jack curls over him to press his mouth to the younger’s in a forceful kiss that leaves them both a bit breathless. Jack pulls back slightly before sinking back in, setting a torturous pace.

 

“ _ Faster, _ ” Rhys pleads, wrapping his legs around Jack’s waist to try and pull him deeper. It's a fruitless effort.

 

The man above him smirks, “I'll do what I want, Rhysie and you'll enjoy it.”

 

Rhys groans in both pleasure and agony. He needs  _ something _ . He needs  _ more. _

 

“Jack, fuck me. Hard. Right now or I swear--”

 

“Swear what cupcake?”

 

That's it, that's more than Rhys can handle and with every bit of strength he has he rolls them.

 

He doesn't stop to address the look of shock on Jack’s face before he starts to ride him in earnest,  _ finally  _ getting the pleasure he so desperately needs.

 

Rhys’ eyes fall shut as Jack’s cock hits him in all the right places. They fly open when Jack starts to stroke his own cock. The younger man moans loud and wanton, pace becoming erratic as he claws at Jack’s chest.

 

Below him Jack looks  _ wrecked _ , like he's hanging on by a shred of self control. The older man thrusts upward, matching Rhys’ pace, still stroking.

 

Rhys cries out Jack’s name as he comes, Jack not far behind.

 

Jack strokes Rhys’ hair as the younger man rests on his chest. He can feel the slickness of Jack’s cum sliding down his thighs when Jack pulls out.

 

Rhys is just about to doze off, sated and content, when the bedroom door opens. He tries to sit up to get a better look at the intruder padding toward the bed, but Jack pulls him back against his chest before throwing a blanket over their lower halves. Rhys doesn't even have a moment to question before there's a young girl at the head of the bed. She can't be much older than twelve. 

 

“Hey you, what're you doing up?” Jack questions her, voice sweet and gentle like Rhys has never heard.

 

“I heard someone calling for you.”--Rhys flushes and buries his face in Jack’s chest--“Who's that?” she questions.

 

“This is Rhysie. Daddy’s friend,” Jack answers.

 

_ Daddy? _

 

At the sound of his name Rhys turns his head to face the girl. “It's a pleasure,” is all he can manage through the shock.

 

The girl smiles at Rhys before turning her attention back to Jack. “Daddy will you read to me until I fall asleep?” she asks, pulling at the edges of her unicorn adorned nightgown and swinging back and forth.

 

Jack smiles back and it's the most heartwarming thing Rhys has ever seen. “Sure, I'll be right there, Angel,” he promises.

 

The girl disappears out the door, leaving it open as she goes.

 

Before Rhys can say anything Jack is pulling them apart and disappearing into the bathroom. When he emerges he's in sweatpants and his chest is cum free.

 

“Stay here, Rhys. We'll talk about this in a minute,” Jack commands before following after the young girl. 

 

Rhys climbs out of bed and takes the opportunity to clean himself up. He catches his reflection in the mirror and he looks like the definition of well fucked. He smiles to himself. Then he's reminded of the girl who heard him calling out Jack’s name as he came and he flushes again before returning to Jack’s bed.

 

He doesn't lay in it this time, just sits at the edge of the bed and waits.

 

Jack returns several minutes later, carding his fingers through his hair as he kicks the door closed behind himself. The older man ignores him as he makes his way around to the other side of the bed. He tosses his sweats away before climbing into the sheets. “Lay down, Rhys,” Jack commands and Rhys obeys.

 

“I thought we agreed you wouldn't call me that,” Rhys says.

 

Jack sits up in bed, making an exasperated noise. Rhys just props himself up on his arm.

 

“This is serious, kiddo,” Jack says, sighing. “She's usually not here. I didn't think--I don't know what I thought.” He shakes his head and rests his arm on his raised knee. 

 

Rhys stays quiet, unsure if Jack is finished or not.

 

“She's usually with her mother. And before you ask, her mother's dead. It was recent. I didn't know what else to do with her so I brought her here. Obviously that was stupid.”--Jack shakes his head again--“No one knows about her, Rhys. You can't tell anyone,” Jack says, voice hollow. 

 

“Is that why you were gone so long?” Rhys asks, reaching over to rub Jack’s back in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. 

 

Jack just nods, obviously not interested in discussing the matter further. 

 

“Jack, look at me,” Rhys says and slowly Jack complies. “I'm not going to tell anyone about her, Jack. Not even Vaughn. She can be our secret.”

 

“Her name's Angel, kiddo,” Jack says. And more quietly, “But thanks. Not that I was really worried. No one said you'd be leaving in the morning.”

 

Rhys swallows hard, “What?” Jack wouldn't kill him with his daughter so close by. Then again she  _ is _ half Jack’s DNA, she's got half his crazy. Maybe she wouldn't mind.

 

Suddenly Jack laughs, “You should see the look on your face, kiddo. It's priceless.”

 

When Rhys doesn't so much as smile Jack frowns, “Oh lighten up, Rhysie. I was just fucking with you--okay wipe that stupid grin off your face right now that wasn't funny. I  _ will  _ shoot you, cupcake.”

 

But Rhys just laughs instead. When he calms Jack is glaring at him. “What’d you mean about not leaving in the morning?” he questions, suddenly curious. 

 

This makes Jack smile and lean over to kiss Rhys. “I'm tempted to just tie you to the bed and keep you for myself,” he says, grinning against Rhys’ mouth.

 

Rhys grins too, and places his flesh hand behind Jack’s neck. “Does that mean what I think it means?” he asks.

 

“Kid, I think we already established I want whatever you're offering,” Jack says, pulling back as much as Rhys’ grip will allow.

 

“But you haven't said it.”

 

Jack rolls his eyes. “I just did. Don't make me repeat myself. I  _ hate  _ repeating myself.”

 

Rhys pulls the older man down so their lips meet. It's gentler this time, neither of them fighting for dominance. They shift--without breaking apart--so Jack’s on his back and Rhys is straddling his chest. 

 

The younger man starts to kiss a trail down Jack’s neck, attempting to move further downward before Jack grabs him roughly by the hair and makes Rhys look at him.

 

“Not again tonight, kitten. I'll kick your ass out. Now lay down and get some sleep,” he tells him, releasing his hair.

 

Rhys complies, readjusting so he's curled up around Jack, who reluctantly wraps his arm around the younger man.

 

“Go to sleep,” Jack commands.


	8. Epilogue

“Have you seen Greg around lately?” Rhys questions Vaughn at lunch.

 

Vaughn looks up from his meal with a combination of sorrow and confusion on his face. “Bro,  _ Craig  _ is dead. Someone shot him.”

 

“What? When?” Rhys asks, shock coating his voice.

 

Vaughn shrugs, “It was a while ago. I can't believe you didn't know.”

 

“Someone shot him? Damn,” Rhys says, leaning back in his chair, suddenly put off his food.

 

“Yeah, then threw him out an airlock,” Vaughn says, shivering slightly.

 

They stay in silence for several minutes.

 

“Come to think of it, I think it was shortly after your date they found him,” Vaughn says. “Bro, I'm sorry.”

 

A thought occurs to Rhys and he's suddenly out of his chair and on his way to Jack’s office. 

 

“Rhysie! What brings you here?” Jack asks, smiling.

 

Rhys ignores him as he makes his way to the desk. “You shot him,” he accuses.

 

Jack’s expression falters, “You're gonna have to be more specific, kiddo. I shoot a lot of people.”

 

“Gre-- _ Craig! _ You shot Craig!” Rhys shouts.

 

Jack exhales sharply, good mood gone. “Yes. I shot him. What do you want from me, Rhys?” Jack says, steepling his hands.

 

Rhys cringes involuntarily at the use of his actual name. He looks away, crossing his arms. “Why?” he asks.

 

“I wanted to?”

 

“That's not all, is it?”

 

Jack sighs, “Fine. You got me. I shot him for you.”

 

Rhys spins back to face Jack. “For me?!”

 

That should not be warming his insides like it is. Jack’s made him just as crazy as he is.

 

Jack stands, slamming his hands on the desk. “Yes, kitten. I shot him for you. You two weren't right for each other. I did you a favor,” Jack snarls.

 

Rhys quirks his lips in a smile. “You were jealous,” he states. 

 

That  _ really  _ should not be doing it for him.

 

Jack rolls his eyes. “Was not.”

 

“You were jealous,” Rhys says in sing-song. 

 

Jack growls, but then sighs. “ _ Fine.  _ So what if I was a little jealous? Shoot me.”

 

Without another thought Rhys leans across the desk, grabbing Jack by the collar to pull him closer. He kisses him fiercely, slipping his tongue into Jack’s mouth when he lets out a surprised sound.

 

Jack gives into it and Rhys climbs up onto the desk to get closer.

 

Rhys growls when Jack pulls away, but the older man only laughs.

 

“You're getting off on this, aren't you, kitten? You like--”

 

Rhys growls again. “Shut up, Jack,” he says, shedding his vest and pulling at the buttons of his shirt.

 

Jack smirks but doesn't speak, just watches Rhys undress before him with crossed arms.

 

Impatient as ever and now completely naked, Rhys licks his palm and snakes his flesh hand down his abdomen until he reaches his cock. He wraps his hand around it and does nothing to suppress the wanton moan that escapes him. His eyes lock on Jack’s and he strokes himself.

 

“You trying to prove my point, pumpkin?” Jack questions with a raised brow.

 

“Jack,” Rhys says, trying for warning but ending up with wanton.

 

“Sit your ass down, kitten or I'll make you,” Jack commands, tone even.

 

Rhys complies, shifting so his ass rests on the desk with his legs on either side of Jack. He bites his lip and waits.

 

Jack sheds his jacket and Rhys moves to help him with the rest of his clothes, but Jack bats his hand away. “No touching,” he scolds. 

 

The younger man can contain himself for only so long before he's batting Jack’s own hands away to help him with his belt. Jack surrenders and allows Rhys to help him finish undressing.

 

When their state of dress matches, Rhys surges forward to trail kisses and bites from Jack’s neck to his collarbone and down his chest. 

 

Resting his hand on Rhys’ neck, Jack relaxes into the touch. 

 

Rhys pulls back. “In the chair,” he says roughly.

 

Jack hesitates, never happy to follow orders, but does as he's told. Rhys follows him, kneeling between his legs.

 

He licks a stripe along Jack’s length, eyes on Jack’s--who's staring at him hungrily. Rhys takes him in his mouth, the man above him groans and throws his head back.

 

Rhys laughs around him, making the older man jerk.

 

“What's so funny, cupcake?” Jack asks, a little breathless. 

 

Rhys just hums in response, causing Jack to jerk again.

 

Jack tangles one of his hands in Rhys’ hair while the other death grips the arm of the chair. He thrusts upward into the younger man's mouth, holding him in place by his hair.

 

“You look good like this, Rhysie. Can't make any smart ass remarks with my dick in your mouth, huh?” Jack says, lips curling in a smirk as he watches Rhys, helpless to complain.

 

Without warning he pulls Rhys off, yanking at his hair as he does so. “On the desk,” he commands, voice ragged. 

 

Rhys wastes no time doing as he's told, though he's unable to hide the grin he's wearing. Making Jack lose his composure is one of his favorite hobbies.

 

The familiar sound of a drawer opening and closing followed by the distinct noises of Jack lubing himself up make Rhys shiver in anticipation. Jack is slow and gentle with his fingers, spreading Rhys open almost leisurely. 

 

“Jack,” Rhys whines, pushing back on the older man's fingers.

 

“You want something, pumpkin?” Jack asks, smugness easily heard in his voice.

 

Rhys groans, “Fuck me, Jack.  _ Please. _ ”

 

The older man laughs and removes his fingers before lubing his cock. He pushes into Rhys, slowly and the younger man keens when Jack's hilted inside him.

 

Rhys whines as Jack stays stationary. “ _ Jack,”  _ Rhys begs, craning his neck to look at the man in question. 

 

He's just staring down at Rhys with a somewhat blank expression. Finally he shakes his head and slides out. “On your back,” he says simply.

 

Rhys stares at him dumbly for a moment before complying.

 

Without hesitation Jack fills Rhys again, setting a punishing pace that has the younger man death gripping the desk. The desk protests as Rhys’ metal hand digs into the wood--there's going to be marks.

 

Jack curves over Rhys to bite at his throat, causing him to arch upward as pleas of  _ more  _ and  _ yes _ spill past the younger man's lips. 

 

Rhys’ legs wrap around Jack's waist, pulling him deeper, closer. He claws at the older man's back, writhing as his end approaches. Jack's name is said like a prayer and it only seems to spur him on.

 

“Please, Jack.  _ Please _ ,” Rhys begs, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“Please what, kitten?” Jack murmurs into Rhys’ throat. “Use your words.” His voice is frayed, and Rhys knows they're not going to last much longer.

 

Rhys swallows hard, trying to clear his mind enough to form coherent sentences. “I want to come, Jack.  _ Please.  _ I  _ need  _ it,” he begs.

 

He can feel Jack’s lips curl in a wicked grin against his throat. “Well if you  _ need _ it,” he says, adjusting them so he hits  _ that  _ spot.

 

Rhys’ orgasm hits him first, hard and unforgiving, dragging him down into euphoric bliss. He cries out Jack’s name, nails digging into the flesh of the older man's back.

 

Jack's not far behind, digging into Rhys’ hips--there's going to be bruises--as he gives one last weak thrust, spent.

 

When Rhys comes back around, Jack’s resting on his chest, laughing. He waits patiently for Jack to calm down enough to explain himself.

 

“I should kill people for you more often, pumpkin. I didn't realize murder got you so hard for me,” Jack says with a laugh, standing up and pulling out.

 

Rhys rolls away as much as the desk will allow, burying his face in his flesh arm as a blush creeps across his cheeks. He groans loudly and it only makes Jack laugh more.

 

“You know, kiddo. You're kinda cute when you're embarrassed,” Jack says.

 

Rhys groans again.

 

“Oh lighten up,” Jack complains, giving the younger man a playful smack on the thigh.

 

Rhys pulls away from his arm and sits up so he faces Jack. “So what if a little cold blooded murder gets me going?” Rhys says, crossing his arms.

 

Jack shrugs, wiping his at chest with tissues before handing the box off to Rhys. “Didn't say it was a bad thing, did I, kiddo?”

 

“It was implied,” Rhys says, doing the same.

 

The older man laughs and falls backward into his chair. “I’d be lying if I said I didn't feel the same. Nothing like a little murder to get the mood going.”

 

“You love lying, Jack.”

 

“I love a lot of things.”

 

Rhys scoffs, “Bullshit.”

 

It's silent as Rhys fishes around for his clothes. He's almost fully dressed before Jack speaks again.

 

“Come here, Rhys.”

 

_ Ah shit. That's not good.  _

 

“Closer.” 

 

Rhys moves so he's standing right in front of Jack.

 

Jack pulls Rhys downward by his tie. “I don't say this lightly, but I like you, Rhys. And I like this thing we've got going. It's fun. If that's not enough for you--”

 

“I like you, too, Jack,” Rhys interrupts, sensing the discomfort growing in Jack's voice.

 

Jack smiles softly and releases Rhys’ tie, giving the younger man a smack on the ass when he turns around.

 

_ I like you _ .

  
It's probably the closest he's ever going to get to him saying he loves him, but Rhys doesn't mind. It's close enough. It's  _ more  _ than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Keep an eye out for the sequel and find me on tumblr - thelilybird.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr thelilybird.tumblr.com


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